


Keeping a Promise

by MaraRogue



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Eliot keeps his promise, M/M, Memory Loss, Season/Series 01, quentin is expelled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:31:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraRogue/pseuds/MaraRogue
Summary: Quentin is expelled from Brakebills and has his memories wiped. Eliot keeps his promise to seduce him.Quentin sat in Dean Fogg’s office, shaking. In a few minutes every memory of magic that he had was going to be removed and there was nothing he could do about it. Finding out about magic had lifted him from a world where he hadn’t fit in, it had given him purpose, it had given him something to live for. As soon as he went back to his old life he was just going to become as depressed as he had been before. He thought for a moment about what Eliot had said; that he would find him and seduce him and so make life retain its sparkle for decades. Quentin wondered if he had meant it. It was a strange thing to think about with the threat of a magicless life looming over him, but for some reason he found it oddly comforting





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so please be nice. I hope you enjoy it. Also I'm not American and this is set in America, just a heads up that I might make some mistakes.

Quentin sat in Dean Fogg’s office, shaking. In a few minutes every memory of magic that he had was going to be removed and there was nothing he could do about it. Finding out about magic had lifted him from a world where he hadn’t fit in, it had given him purpose, it had given him something to live for. As soon as he went back to his old life he was just going to become as depressed as he had been before. He thought for a moment about what Eliot had said; that he would find him and seduce him and so make life retain its sparkle for decades. Quentin wondered if he had meant it. It was a strange thing to think about with the threat of a magicless life looming over him, but for some reason he found it oddly comforting. It had, for the most part sounded like a joke, but he hoped it was true. Maybe if he still had Eliot in his life, he wouldn’t be as hopeless as he had been before. Maybe even that proximity to magic would help to lift his spirits a little. He felt sick to his stomach, his hands were clammy and trembling. How could anyone go back to a life of mundanity after being at Brakebills? Not for the first time, he thought about what he had said to Julia, about how harsh he had been. He knew now that if it were him who remembered magic and was locked out of Brakebills he would do everything he could to get it. But unlike Julia, he wasn’t going to remember. 

***  
Quentin woke slowly, his head spinning a little. He tried to sit up, but felt too dizzy and gave up. He realised that he must be really hungover and he had no memory of getting home, or of the night out. He lay in bed for a long time until he finally felt together enough to drag himself to the bathroom. It was starting to come back to him in pieces as he stared at his face in the mirror. He had dropped out of his finance course at the prestigious college he was at and had gone out drinking with his course mates as a send off. Someone must’ve driven him home, but he couldn’t remember who. He felt relieved to be done with that college though. It wouldn’t come into focus properly in his memory, but whenever he thought about it he felt an overwhelming sense of boredom. He knew he hadn’t been happy there. He couldn’t remember why he had chosen it over Yale. Maybe it was because they had offered him a place, and they hadn’t offered one to Julia. Right, and his competitive side had kicked in and he’d chosen to go there, knowing it finally made him seem smarter than her. Now he had come back and he would have to start that part of his life over again. 

James was in the kitchen when Quentin emerged from the the bathroom. He was making breakfast for both of them, Julia was clearly out already.   
“Q!” He said with a smile. Quentin nodded at him, still feeling a little fragile from his hangover.   
“Good to have you back,” James said, “sorry that it didn’t work out at your fancy college.” He seemed friendly enough, but Quentin sensed an edge under his words. He knew James well enough to know that he was pissed off, but not well enough to know why. They ate breakfast together in silence, Quentin wanting to apologise, but not knowing what he had done wrong. He offered to do the dishes and James let him, heading off into his room to get ready for the day. When he emerged, reaching for his coat, Quentin couldn’t take their silence anymore and decided to break it. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and cleared his throat before talking.   
“James, um, I’m sorry if I’ve done something to piss you off.” James spun to face him, his brow knitting together in anger.   
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He said.   
“I don’t….” Quentin trailed off, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t know what I’ve done.” James sighed.   
“Seriously?” He asked. Quentin raised his eyebrows by way of response.   
“You fucking left us Q. We needed you and you were too busy at your fancy school. Julia’s really going through something. I asked you to visit, I asked you to help but you just pissed off.”James’ voice rose as he replied and so did Quentin’s confusion. He couldn’t remember speaking to James at all while he was at college. Was he really so selfish that not only had he ignored James, he had completely forgotten speaking to him at all? His mind whirred for a bit until it returned to what was really important.   
“What’s happening with Julia?”   
“For fuck’s sake!” James exclaimed.   
“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry… I just… I don’t even really remember much about being at college. I think I was really depressed and I wasn’t taking much in.” James sighed and the fight went out of him.   
“I don’t know what’s happening with Jules. She’s just not herself. She won’t talk to me. I don’t even know where she is half the time.” Quentin almost wished James would yell at him again. Seeing him like this was much scarier.   
“Shit, James. I’m sorry.” James shrugged.   
“I’ve got to go. You going to be okay here on your own?” Quentin hated how quickly he slipped back into the role of being the sick, pitied friend, but he nodded anyway.   
“See you later.” James said before walking out of the apartment. 

Quentin spent the rest of the day doing nothing. He wandered around the empty apartment. He sifted through his clothes. He watched some tv mindlessly for a while. Then he started thinking about the future. Now that he had dropped out of grad school, he couldn’t just spend the rest of his life milling around the apartment. If he wanted to start a different course elsewhere, which he probably did, he would need to reapply, and start new in the fall. That gave him nearly a year before going back to college, which meant he should probably sort himself out with a job. 

***

Julia got home before James that evening. Quentin was slouched across the sofa rereading the first Fillory novel, something he did whenever he felt particularly lost. Julia was clearly stunned to see him. Her appearance surprised him. He knew from what James had said that she wasn’t herself, but she looked dazed, glazed over and distracted. He was the only thing in the room that she focused on, an intensity that she had always, to some extent, had, but that was magnified now. She looked at him like he could save her.   
“Did you tell them about me?” She asked.   
“Huh?” Quentin asked, baffled.   
“Don’t play games with me Q. I asked you to tell them about me. I figured… seeing as how you were here, that you’d told them. I’ve been waiting for weeks.”   
“What are you talking about, Jules? Tell who?” Julia froze, staring at Quentin, first in confusion and then a curiosity took over her expression. She tilted her head, still staring at him.   
“What have they done to you?” She said softly. Quentin was starting to get angry. He hadn’t seen Julia in months and instead of saying hello, she was talking nonsense.   
“Did they kick you out?” She asked. Finally he had some purchase on the conversation.   
“Oh, no, I dropped out. Finance,” he laughed, “what was I thinking? That’s not me.”  
“You don’t remember?” Julia said and then sighed, “it’s probably for the best.” But her expression had changed and as she walked to sit down next to him, Quentin saw pity on her face. That didn’t make sense. Julia was the one who looked like she needed help.   
“What’s going on, Jules?” He asked.   
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Glad to have you back.” She said, pushing her shoulder against his. It was familiar, it felt like how their friendship had been before he went away, but the distant look in her eyes was new.   
“I’ve got some work to do, Q, I’ll see you later.” She said and headed off to her room, leaving Quentin alone and confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin meets some interesting strangers.

After a few days things began to settle down. James seemed to have forgiven him, for the most part at least. They fell into some simple routines together, disrupted only by Julia’s erratic appearances and disappearances. When Quentin tried to talk to her about how she was, she brushed him off. She was clearly very focused on something, and it didn’t seem to be healthy for her. Quentin got himself a job at the coffee shop near the apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was what felt manageable to him while he got his life back on track. He tried not to think about his brief time at college and what he had been thinking accepting their offer. He had been miserable there and that was all he really remembered of it. But the truth was that he was still miserable now. As always, he had a desperate feeling that something was missing from his life, that somehow there should be more than this. He worked on his application a bit and tried to help James figure out what was going on with Julia, but they made no real progress. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do except keep working and waiting for the new academic year. 

At work, Quentin hadn’t really managed to make any new friends. His coworkers were friendly enough, but they had been working together before Quentin got there and he didn’t have the energy to work his way into the group. He felt, as he so often did, that life was pointless and empty and would always be that way.   
“Hello? Earth to Quentin.” He was interrupted from his daydream of hopelessness by a tall, rather handsome man, overdressed for the coffee shop, with a mop of curly brown hair. It startled him that the man knew his name, but he quickly recalled the nametag on his apron. Customers tended not to use it, so it had surprised him. Plus the stranger’s tone seemed a little familiar, but some people were just like that.   
“Oh, um, sorry,” Quentin said, “what can I get for you?” The stranger looked at him for a few seconds with an expression that he couldn’t read, but that made him feel strangely sad, and then he looked up at the board above Quentin’s head. The stranger ordered a cappuccino, smiling at Quentin. Their hands brushed together as the man paid for his drink and Quentin was certain it was deliberate. 

The stranger sat down in a booth by the window, reading a book and slowly sipping his coffee. Every now and again Quentin glanced over at him and met his eyes before blushing and looking away. But it was worth the risk for the moments when the man was focusing on his book and Quentin could study him from afar. He was studying the book intensely and occasionally making notes, before leaning back and staring around the coffee shop as if he couldn’t care less. Quentin wondered what he was reading about. He also wondered why this man was taking up so much of his focus. 

***

The man was there the next few days, always ordering the same drink. He smirked at Quentin each time, getting more and more familiar. He started to ask Quentin how he was doing, and to make pleasant small talk.There was something about his attitude that would normally have annoyed Quentin, his ‘I couldn’t care less’ vibe, but for some reason it only made Quentin more fascinated. Maybe it was because he could see a clear contrast between that attitude and the focus on the man’s face when he was reading. Or maybe it was because he was attractive and potentially flirting. After a few days of this pleasant small talk, the man came in with a woman. She was gorgeous, spectacularly dressed in a tight fitting dress, with long brown hair loose by her sides. The two of them were giggling to each other in the line, their arms linked together. It made Quentin think about how his friendship with Julia had been when they were younger, before everything had become complicated. The woman, when she reached the front of the line, spoke to him in a confident and bossy tone. Her coffee order was long winded and extravagant and something told Quentin that she would be very unforgiving if he messed up. Because the shop was particularly busy that day, Quentin took down people’s names so their orders could be announced. He saw something odd flash across both of their faces when he asked for the woman’s name, but it was gone as soon as he noticed it and he thinks that maybe he imagined it.   
“I’m Margo” She said with a flirty smile.She moved aside for the man to order his drink. He ordered the same drink as before and then leant forward, looking into Quentin’s eyes before saying his name.  
“Eliot.” He said. It felt familiar somehow, but he figured that he was imagining that as well. Or maybe it was just deja vu.   
“Ah… um.. Your drinks will be ready in a minute.” Quentin said, feeling himself blush, hating how awkward he was. Eliot smirked slightly and the both of them walked over to the other end of the counter to wait for their drinks. 

Margo and Eliot sat in Eliot’s usual booth for a while, both reading different books and talking to each other in hushed voices, an intensity clear on their faces. Quentin tried not to watch them too much. He was lucky that the shop was so busy so he had something else to focus on. At one point Margo announced loudly that she was bored.   
“Fuck this,” she said, “why does it have to be our problem, we have better things to do. Let’s leave the first years to the research. We aren’t even friends with them El.” Quentin knew that he was eavesdropping and that it was rude, but he couldn’t help it. It was like Margo and Eliot were the only people in focus, they just had an energy that drew him to them. Unlike everything in his life, they weren’t dull. Eliot sighed and leant back in his seat.   
“I know Bambi, but we started helping. Plus…” and then he lowered his voice and said something that Quentin couldn’t hear. They went back to their reading for a while before Margo closed her book, stood up and walked over to Quentin. By this point the coffee shop had emptied out a bit, and he really had been watching them a bit too much. He thought that he was about to get in trouble for spying on them, but instead she leant against the counter and smiled at him.   
“You’re sort of cute,” she said, “in a nerdy kind of way.”  
“Um, thanks?” Quentin replied. His coworker behind the counter shot him a surprised look.   
“What are you doing tonight?” Seriously, Quentin thinks, what is going on?  
“Um…” He said, feeling completely out of his depth.   
“Come party with us.” She said, it was less of a question and more of a command.   
“Oh… I… I’m not really the partying type.” He replied.  
“Sure you are.” She said. He looked at her incredulously. How could this be happening to him? Did anyone actually behave like this?  
“Bambi?” Eliot called from the booth, “stop terrorising the poor barista. He gave Quentin an apologetic smile. Margo turned back to Quentin and leant forward.   
“Eliot really wants you to come party with us.” He doesn’t know why he does it, but glancing back at the tall, handsome man looking back at him from the booth, Quentin agrees to go out with them. Margo took his phone, typed a number into it, then sent a text from Quentin’ phone.   
“Eliot will text you a time and place.” She said. 

Quentin watched Margo head back to her seat. The pair packed up to leave, waving at him as they left. He couldn’t believe that people were actually like that, couldn’t believe that anyone would be so confident. He didn’t understand why they invited him. Maybe they often invited strangers to party with them, he wouldn’t be surprised, they seemed a lot wilder than he was. But a part of Quentin wondered if it was some sort of joke, if they were planning on humiliating him. He tried not to think about it as he finished his shift. The place was a lot duller without them there. Even with his doubts about them, he knew he was going to go out with them. It was the only thing that came close to breaking the monotony of his life. Wasn’t more adventure exactly what he had been dreaming about?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin goes clubbing

When he got back to the apartment he started panicking. There was no way he could just wander around New York with strangers, he got anxious just going to work. James was in the kitchen cooking dinner.   
“Hey,” he said when Quentin walked in.   
“Hi.” They had become friendly again, but their new friendship was based on a mutual concern for Julia and her strange behaviour, it would never be the same as it had been and Quentin just had to accept it.   
“Jules and I are having some people over in a few hours for drinks. You’re welcome to join us.” James said. It did seem to be a genuine invitation, but the idea of drinking with James’ student friends and a distracted, distant Julia, made Quentin feel a little sick.   
“Thanks,” he said, “I might be going out with some friends from work, but if not, I’ll join you.” He walked into his room and started trying to pick out clothes. 

Quentin’s phone buzzed during dinner and he looked down to check the message. It was from Eliot’s number that Margo had added to his phone earlier.   
“Sorry about Margo earlier,” it read, “she means well but she’s a lot. But you should definitely join us tonight, we know how to party.” Quentin felt himself blush and knew that James was looking at him. Julia, who had joined them for dinner for once, was staring at her plate and sliding the food around with her fork. She never really ate much anymore.   
“Who’s that?” He asked, his voice friendly and slightly teasing.   
“No one.” Quentin replied. He didn’t think James would condone going out with strangers, he had to admit that it was a bit out of character for him.   
“Someone from work?” James asked and Quentin nodded, “you seeing them tonight?” Quentin nodded again. Julia looked up from her plate to shoot Quentin a surprised look and James grinned at him.   
“It’s not like that.” Quentin said.  
“Sure.” James replied. Quentin’s phone buzzed again, a new text from Eliot with a time and an address followed by one more text.   
“Hope to see you there.” Quentin blushed again.   
“Sure.” James repeated.

***

The bar was crowded when Quentin got there but he saw Eliot and Margo through the crowd and they waved him over.   
“You came!” Margo said and Eliot smiled at him.   
“Glad you made it.” Quentin smiled awkwardly, wondering how he had gotten himself into this.   
“You have some catching up to do.” Eliot said, before ordering him a drink.

As Quentin caught up, Eliot and Margo bickered about things that he didn’t understand. They threw insults at each other playfully and leant against one another. They were so relaxed in a way that Quentin was sure he had never and would never be. But the alcohol loosened him up a bit and somehow they started talking about the Fillory and Further books while doing shots together. It was maybe the only thing Quentin was an expert in. He may not have been as relaxed as Eliot and Margo, but he was interested and contributing to the discussion. Margo seemed to know quite a bit about the books, but Eliot had clearly never read them which made him wonder why they started talking about it. He didn’t question it for fear of them changing the subject though. For the first time since meeting these strange, confident people, Quentin was the one with the most knowledge.

At some point they moved from the bar to a club. Going outside sobered Quentin up a little, but only a little. He stumbled and Eliot wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. They were both clearly better at drinking than he was.   
“You guys are so nice.” Quentin slurred.   
“If you tell anyone that, we’ll have to kill you.” Margo said. They giggled together and then they all made a drama out of acting sober to get into the club, fooling no one. The bouncer clearly didn’t care and let them in anyway. Margo went to get them more drinks and Eliot and Quentin danced together.   
“Why did you invite me?” Quentin asked, having to lean close to Eliot’s ear to be heard. Eliot paused, looking directly into his eyes. Then he leant in next to Quentin’s ear. Quentin could feel his breath when he spoke.   
“You looked like you needed to loosen up,” he said, and then, “and you’re cute.” Quentin looked up at him and leant away, feeling the blush creep into his cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol. He didn’t know what to say, just that he should say something. But before he could think of a suitably flirty response, Margo returned handing him a drink before wrapping an arm around his waist.  
“I’m so glad you came out with us Quentin.” She said. The easy physicality the pair of them had with each other was starting to extend to him. He loved everything about the night; the drinks, the dancing, the company. It was as if he were a completely different version of himself. A version of himself that might even know how to be happy. 

When the club closed and everyone was turfed out onto the street Quentin felt his heart sink. He didn’t want the night to end. Whatever this craziness had been, it felt rare. It felt like it could never happen again, and he didn’t want to let go of it.   
“We’ll walk you home.” Eliot said, wrapping an arm around Quentin’s waist. Quentin put an arm over Eliot’s shoulder, surprised by his own familiarity with someone who was essentially a stranger. They wandered through the streets together, Margo’s arm looped through Eliot’s on the other side of him. When they reached Quentin’s apartment and stepped into the stairwell, Margo rolled her eyes.   
“Fuck those stairs,” she said, “I’ll wait here.” Eliot and Quentin continued drunkenly up the stairs, stumbling against each other.   
“This is me.” Quentin said when they reached his door.   
“Right.” Eliot replied, letting go of him.   
“Thank you,” Quentin said, looking up at him, “for tonight, I had a great time.”   
“Of course you did. I told you we know how to party.” There was only so long that they could stall outside the door with Margo waiting downstairs.   
“Can I… Will I see you again?” Quentin stammered, surprised at his own boldness. Eliot smiled.   
“I’ll call you.” He said and then reached out and brushed a strand of Quentin’s hair behind his ear before walking away. 

***

James’ friends were gone when Quentin got in. He got himself some water and painkillers before heading to his room as quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone up. He brought his hand up to the side of his head, tracing it over his skin as Eliot had done, brushing away his hair. The night almost felt like a dream, like how he might have imagined his life to be if he wasn’t too depressed to do those sorts of things. But he had done it. It had been real.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin goes on a date.

In the morning, Quentin was hungover. Very hungover. His head pounded and he felt nauseous, but the worst part of his hangovers was always the emotional component. He felt disgusting and incredibly low. He felt like his own skin didn’t fit correctly. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled in to work that day, so he stayed in bed for as long as he could stand to before his bladder got the better of him and he had to struggle towards the bathroom. Standing up proved to be a bad idea and a wave of nausea rolled through him.   
“Good night? James asked when he emerged from the bathroom. Quentin thought back to it and felt his mood lift a little. The memory of Eliot seeing him to his door replaying in his head.   
“It was. How was your night?”  
“Also good. I’ve made coffee” James put a mug down on the counter for him.   
“Thanks.” They sat together in a silence that was only a little uncomfortable. Quentin couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The more he thought about it, the more his hangover-induced bad mood lifted. He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to just relax and have fun with strangers. It was very unlike him. But it had paid off. He had enjoyed himself, he might even have been happy. And there was definitely something going on with Eliot, he wasn’t just imagining things, was he? He couldn’t be. He could practically still feel Eliot’s fingers brushing hair behind his ear. But then Eliot and Margo were very tactile people, it could mean nothing. He really hoped that it meant something. The truth twisted its way through Quentin’s brain. He desperately wanted Eliot to like him. 

When Quentin’s phone rang later that day, his heart dropped to see that it wasn’t from Eliot’s number, but from an unknown one. He answered it just in case it was something important, expecting it just to be a cold caller, and was thrilled to hear Eliot’s voice.   
“Quentin?” Eliot asked.   
“Hi…”  
“It’s Eliot. Sorry, I don’t have cell signal here.” Eliot said.   
“Right… um…” Quentin cursed himself for always being so awkward.   
“Margo is busy tonight, but I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me?” Eliot asked. Quentin’s heart leapt, he felt a little giddy. That had to be Eliot asking him out on a date, surely? That meant that Eliot did like him, although Quentin worried that it was maybe all a little bit fast.   
“I’d love to.” He said, before his overthinking could mess up the one decent thing in his life.   
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.” Eliot said and hung up. Quentin was left, phone in hand, heart racing. He was stunned at the whole exchange.

***

That afternoon Julia slunk in from wherever she was spending all of her time. She had dropped out of school, Quentin knew, but she was still missing for most of the day, pretty much every day. She looked exhausted but elated and Quentin wondered, as he often did, what the hell was going on with her. Quentin had been in his room when she got in and she knocked gently on his door. She looked like she was going to tell him something, her eyes were all lit up and she was smiling in a way that he hadn’t seen in months. But then she looked around his room at the pile of clothes stacked on his bed and confusion clouded her face.   
“What’s all this?” She asked. Quentin had been trying to choose an outfit to wear that evening with Eliot. Clothes had never been his strong suit, he cared more about comfort than he did about style, but every time he had seen Eliot, Eliot had been immaculately dressed.   
“Have you got a date?” Julia asked when Quentin didn’t reply. She chuckled softly to herself. “Maybe that place changed you after all.” She said. Quentin blushed, and shrugged.   
“Help me?” He asked with a soft laugh. She smiled and nodded, but he noticed again the pity in her eyes. He didn’t have the heart to question her about it though. She helped him choose some clothes and as she rifled through the pile on his bed he caught sight of a strange new tattoo on her arm.   
“Jules?” He said, nodding towards it. She shrugged and pulled down her sleeve.   
“It’s funny,” she said, more to herself that to him, “I guess you’re how they meant me to turn out. Getting on with my life, oblivious.” He looked at her, hurt and confused.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Jules.” he said. She smiled at him, looking at him like she might’ve looked at a child.   
“I know, Q. Enjoy your date.” 

His puzzling conversation with Julia hung over him as he prepared for his date, stopping him from focusing on his nerves and excitement at seeing Eliot again. When the doorbell rang all of the nerves flew back in and his conversation with Julia was entirely forgotten. Quentin felt a little dizzy as he rushed to answer the door. Eliot was leaning against the doorway, as handsome and effortless as every time Quentin had seen him. He called back into the flat to let James and Julia know he was going out, and then he followed Eliot out the front door. It was better that they didn’t meet him yet. 

Once they were outside, Quentin didn’t know what to say. They’d covered basic pleasantries as they has walked down the stairs, and now Quentin felt as if he had nothing left to say. Eliot was so fascinating that Quentin feared anything he said to him would seem boring. He didn’t want to bore Eliot. He also hadn’t been on a first date in a really long time. What were people meant to say on first dates?  
“What do you do?” He asked Eliot after a brief pause.   
“I’m a second year post-grad student.” Eliot replied.   
“Oh? What’re you studying?”  
“Classics. What about you? Sticking with barista-ing or...?”   
“Oh...” Quentin said, suddenly embarrassed. “I, um... I was doing the first year of a masters in finance but I dropped out.”  
“Finance... no wonder.” Eliot said and Quentin laughed.  
“Yeah, it’s as dull as it sounds.”  
“I really didn’t peg you for a finance guy.” Eliot said.  
“Yeah well, clearly I’m not. Do you like your degree?”  
“Like is a strong word,”Eliot said with a slight laugh, “but I certainly don’t want to drop out.”  
“Right... That’s pretty important.” Quentin replied. Eliot turned to look him in the eyes, stopping them in their tracks. His hand rested on Quentin’s arm. It was surprisingly intimate.   
“How is freedom treating you?” He asked. There was so much intensity behind it, it felt like much more than small talk.   
“Um...” Quentin said, unsure. He didn’t know Eliot well enough to really get into it, but he didn’t want to brush the question off with a light-hearted lie. Eliot nodded, still holding on to Quentin’s arm and led him on towards the restaurant. 

It took Quentin until they reached the restaurant to respond to Eliot’s question. They had been walking in a silence that wasn’t at all uncomfortable, it felt as if Eliot was simply giving him room to think of a reply. Once they were seated in the restaurant Quentin took a deep breath and then began.   
“I... um... I guess it’s better not to be doing something I don’t like... but now there’s the issue of not having anything to do.” Once he started talking about it, the words kept bubbling out of him and he couldn’t help it.   
“I think maybe I’m just not a particularly happy person. Finance degree or no finance degree I’m probably going to find a way to be miserable.” He looked up at Eliot who was watching him intently.   
“Sorry... that’s a little heavy for a first date.” Eliot smirked and raised an eyebrow.   
“So this is a date?” He said.   
“I…” Quentin stammered, he had assumed that it was, but now he felt stupid for coming to that conclusion. Of course Eliot wasn’t interested in him, who would be?   
“I thought so… Is it not?” He asked, wishing he hadn’t messed things up so early.   
“Oh it definitely is.” Eliot said and then laughed. Quentin felt too relieved to actually be annoyed by Eliot’s teasing and he joined in laughing.   
“That was cruel.” He said.   
“Lightened the mood though, I really had you going for a second. You’re cute when you’re nervous.” Quentin blushed. He still found everything about this situation unbelievable; he was stunned that someone like Eliot was interested in him, and he was shocked that he had been brave enough to go out with him. They paused to read the menu and order some drinks and then Eliot leant towards him looking deadly serious.   
“Sometimes you can find the most magical, wonderful things and even they can only lift your spirits for so long.”  
“Wow,” Quentin said, “that’s really dark for a first date.” Eliot laughed, the seriousness disappearing as he let his ‘couldn’t care less’ attitude take over again.   
“I just mean that happiness isn’t about what school you go to.” Quentin sensed that this was his way back towards lighter topics, he could shift them back towards small talk, but for some reason he was enjoying the intensity of their conversation.   
“What do you think it is about then?” He asked as a waiter arrived with their drinks.   
“I don’t know,” Eliot said, taking his wine glass from the waiter, “and so, I drink.” 

***

After finishing his meal, Quentin didn’t want the night to be over. The food had been delicious and the conversation had been even better. There was some of the typical first date awkwardness, mostly from Quentin, but even so the conversation had flowed between them the whole time. Eliot had talked about how he had met Margo and about some parties he had thrown. Quentin talked about Julia and James and about college. Eliot fascinated him. For some reason he seemed genuinely interested in him, despite the fact that Quentin was a boring nobody. They went on to bar and sat, drinking together for hours.   
“What’s next then?” Eliot asked, “now that you’ve dropped out.”   
“Oh, wow… I’m going back to my original plan, I guess. Philosophy, Yale.” Quentin ran a hand through his hair and leant back a little in his seat.   
“Right.” Eliot said, looking at him as if he were trying to see into Quentin’s mind. “Philosophy suits you more than finance.”  
“Let’s hope.” Quentin said and they clinked their glasses together.   
“And you?” Quentin asked, “do you have plans for when you graduate?”   
“God no. I hate thinking that far ahead.”  
“Fair.” Quentin said with a laugh. He couldn’t remember exactly how much he had drunk, which definitely meant he had drunk too much. He became hyper aware of Eliot’s knee pressed against his own. His head was spinning and he felt a little overwhelmed. But he also felt content. He reckoned that if he could stay in that moment forever then it would be perfect. It seemed to be exactly what he felt the night before and he wondered if that was more to do with the company or the difference in his behaviour, allowing himself to do things that he normally wouldn’t do. Maybe if he could focus on the moment instead of always worrying about how quickly things would slip away he could be happy. And then he started spiralling. The last two nights ware such standout moments in his largely dull existence and how long did he have until all of it became a distant memory? How could Eliot really be interested in him when his life was so boring? He just wasn’t an interesting person.   
“Q?” Quentin felt Eliot’s hand resting on his leg and heard his voice full of concern and something that just might’ve been affection. He barely registered the fact that it might be a little early for such a familiar nickname.   
“Are you okay?” Eliot asked.   
“Ah… sorry, I’m fine. Just a little drunk, I guess.” Quentin said.   
“Do you want me to walk you home?” Eliot asked. Quentin was conflicted. Part of him thought that leaving then was probably for the best, but he really didn’t want the night to be over, that was the whole reason he was stressed out in the first place. He was frustrated at himself for ruining the night by overthinking.   
“I… uh… yes please.” He was sure that Eliot would no longer be interested in him now that he had shown what a mess he could be.   
They walked back towards the apartment, arm in arm, and at some point along the way Quentin began to sober up enough to stop spiralling. He leant into Eliot a little, and let their shoulders brushed together as they walked.   
“Sorry for making us leave early.” He said. Eliot smiled and slid his arm away from Quentin’s before finding his hand and intertwining their fingers.   
“Don’t worry about it.” He said, and Quentin let himself relax with the possibility that he might not have fucked everything up. 

When they reached the apartment, Quentin hesitated. He didn’t know what Eliot was expecting, or what Eliot wanted, but he still didn’t feel ready for the night to end.   
“I don’t know if my roommates are home,” he said, and Eliot raised an eyebrow, “but, um… do you want to come in for a drink?” The smile on Eliot’s face might have been the most flirtatious smile Quentin had ever seen.  
“I’ve never been one to turn down a drink.” Eliot said, and they headed into the apartment together. 

The living room was empty and Quentin guessed that Julia and James were asleep, he tried to tell Eliot that they needed to be quiet, but they were both a little drunk and kept laughing to each other and shushing one another. Quentin grabbed them both drinks and then they settled down close together on the sofa. Somehow they started talking about the Fillory books again, which was odd because Eliot had been the least knowledgeable of the three of them the day before. But now, nestled on the sofa, drink in hand, he began to talk about Chatwin’s torrent.   
“It healed Rupert’s leg, right?” He asked Quentin, who nodded at him, enjoying how serious Eliot seemed to be. “I wonder if it could heal more than that.” Quentin wanted to ask why, but he didn’t press the issue. Eliot was talking about the books as if they could be real, which was how Quentin had always felt about them.   
“If we could actually go to Fillory,” Eliot said, “that’s where I would want to go.”   
“Those books,” Quentin admitted, “they’re what I go back to when I’m at my worst.” He lowered his voice, a little embarrassed and surprised at his own honesty. “It always felt so real to me.” He looked up at Eliot and was met with a gaze that was so tender Quentin could hardly breathe. He knew that it was going to happen before it did. He could feel it in the air between them. He followed that feeling, leaning towards Eliot as Eliot leant towards him. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft and lingering, before they pulled away for a moment, hardly any distance between them, just far enough for them to exchange quick smiles before they collided into a kiss that was deeper, more intense. One of Eliot’s arms wrapped around Quentin’s waist, pulling him closer. Quentin had a hand in Eliot’s hair and the other on his hip. When the kiss broke apart they were both breathless. Eliot got to his feet and pulled Quentin up by his arms. Quentin leant into him and kissed him again before dragging them both towards his room. He knew that magic wasn’t real, but if it was, this is what he imagined it would feel like.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

When Quentin woke up, soft light streaming in around the edge of the curtains he felt a weight against his torso. Eliot’s arm was resting across him, his curls spilling onto the pillow. He looked so peaceful, Quentin was scared to move in case he woke up. But then Eliot stirred, blinked and looked up at Quentin, and that look was definitely better than the view of Eliot asleep. There was still the part of Quentin that overthought everything, and it was making him wonder what was going to happen next. He wondered if this was supposed to be a one time thing, if it was just a hookup and he was hoping that it was more than that because Eliot was really something else.   
“Mm, why are you staring at me?” Eliot asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Quentin looked away, blushing, but quickly looked back. There was nothing in the room worth looking at other than Eliot, still half asleep beside him. Eliot leant forward and kissed his shoulder. It was perfect, and if Quentin could only learn to live in the moment and calm his brain down then he would understand that.   
“Hey.” Eliot said, softly, and Quentin let himself relax. He rolled onto his side, kissed Eliot gently and then pulled Eliot onto him as he rolled back onto his back so that they were lying chest to chest.   
“Morning.” He said.   
“Morning.” Eliot replied with a smirk. If this was the last time they were going to see each other then Quentin was going to make it count, and if it wasn’t… every moment was still important. 

After showering, they emerged from the bathroom together, wrapped in towels. James was sat at the kitchen counter eating breakfast. Julia was probably already out, wherever it was she was spending all of her time. Quentin was grateful, for once, that Julia wasn’t there, but he blushed anyway as James looked Eliot up and down.  
“Morning.” James said. Eliot was not at all shy.   
“Morning,” he said, stepping forward to introduce himself, one hand holding the towel in place, the other outstretched to shake James’ hand, “I’m Eliot.”   
“Right…” James said, a little stunned, “I’m James.”   
“Nice to meet you.” Quentin was shocked at how bold Eliot was, he might even have been flirting with James, it was difficult to say. He was tongue-tied by the whole situation, embarrassed to be caught out by James.   
“We should go get dressed.” Quentin managed eventually. Eliot pouted at him, but followed him back to his bedroom. Quentin already knew how much James was going to tease him later. 

Quentin managed to avoid James until after work. He got home to find Julia and James sat together at dining table. James was talking to her about something and she was staring of into the distance, clearly not listening. They both seemed relieved to see Quentin arrive back so they had a distraction.   
“So…” James said, after they’d gotten pleasantries out of the way, “I guess he’s the guy who was texting you the other day?” Quentin nodded.   
“He seems… confident,” James continued, “so, how long have you two been…” Quentin blushed.   
“Not long.” He replied.   
“Sorry I missed the mystery guy, Q.” Julia said, surprising both Quentin and James, they’d gotten used to her being an almost ghost-like presence.   
“It wasn’t really a meet the roommates type thing,” Quentin said, “don’t feel bad.”   
“Are you seeing him again?” James asked, his voice playful. Quentin shrugged.   
“He said he’d call. I guess I’ll find out.”   
“He didn’t really seem your type.”   
“You met him for like two seconds.” Quentin said.  
“Yeah, but… I mean, he was very confident.”   
“What you mean is that you’re surprised he was interested in me.” Quentin said.   
“Q, come on,” James replied, “that’s unfair.” They had clearly lost Julia’s interest. She was back to staring off into space while they had an argument that was half teasing and half sincere. Whenever Quentin caught her eye he saw pity there and it made him uncomfortable, so he stopped looking over at her. 

***

Eliot rang that evening to ask Quentin out for drinks the next day, and he wound up staying over again. After that it became clear that his was more than just a casual hookup. Eliot stayed over most nights that week, and when they weren’t together they were in near constant communication, texting each other throughout the day. Eliot had said that he didn’t have cell service at his college, but he had clearly found some kind of work around for that. The only real bump in the first few days of them hanging out together was when Eliot first met Julia. Eliot had announced that he was going to cook dinner, and he was preparing some sort of elaborate dish at the kitchen counter when Julia got back.   
“Don’t mind me.” She said when she first walked in, making a beeline for her room, but then she stopped to give Eliot the once over and her distant expression changed to one of recognition and then confusion.   
“Do I…?” Julia started, and then “were you at my party?”   
“Huh?” Eliot asked, looking Julia up and down. Quentin saw him notice that same tattoo on her wrist that he had noticed the other day, and narrow his eyes.   
“You go to…” she turned, looked at Quentin, and then continued, “that school, don’t you?”   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eliot said, but he sounded nowhere near as confused as Quentin was. Julia glanced over at him again and then back to Eliot before storming away.   
“What was that about?” Quentin asked and Eliot shrugged.   
“I have no idea.”

Julia’s strange reaction to him aside, things with Eliot went smoothly. They spent most nights together. Sometimes they went out clubbing with Margo, and she teased them continuously, dancing with them for most of the night before she would go off to find someone to hook up with. Quentin enjoyed the teasing from her, it made him feel accepted as one of her friends, and she clearly meant a lot to Eliot. When they weren’t out with Margo, Eliot would cook dinner and make impressive cocktails, or they would order takeaway and watch movies together. They would eat breakfast with James and Julia, James making pleasant small talk, while Julia glared at Eliot and Eliot pretended not to notice. Quentin began to get comfortable with Eliot, became used to having him around. The intense nerves he had felt when they first got together faded away, allowing him to be more relaxed. One morning, looking at Eliot lying next to him in bed, Quentin felt the word echo around in his head before he could stop it. He told himself that it was too soon, but couldn’t stop himself from feeling it. He had fallen in love. He could stop himself from saying it though. He could hold back until they were both ready, until Eliot wouldn’t be scared off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin is upset

Quentin finally found out what had been going on with Julia. She told James one day that she had been going to narcotics anonymous meetings, and James tells him, which was a little questionable, but Quentin was relieved to finally have an answer. It made so much sense that Quentin was surprised neither of them thought about it before. James had began to suspect that Julia was having an affair although Quentin had never really settled on a solid theory. She seemed a bit more herself after that, a bit more present. It was nice to have the old Julia back, even if it was only in part. She still watched Eliot like a hawk whenever he was around, but Quentin wondered if it was just her being protective of him. He came back from the bathroom once to find them having a whispered argument over breakfast after James had left for school, but they stopped talking as soon as they saw him. It made him a little uneasy but he was so happy in his new relationship, and with Julia seeming more herself that he quickly stopped thinking about it. 

***

After a few months together, Quentin started to notice a change in Eliot. He seemed stressed and distracted. He muttered in his sleep, Quentin could never make out what he said, but it always seemed distressing. He woke up sometimes with a start that jolted Quentin awake as well. Whenever Quentin asked about it, Eliot just told him that he had a lot on his plate at college. But Quentin had known Eliot long enough now that he couldn’t imagine him ever caring that much about school work. This was clearly something else. 

Then one day Eliot came to say goodbye. They were supposed to meet at the apartment before going out for dinner, but Eliot was over an hour late. When he did show up he was pale and trembling. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Quentin was ready to be mad, to have a go at Eliot for standing him up and making them miss their reservation, but Eliot looked terrified and it stopped him in his tracks. Eliot collapsed against Quentin, wrapping him in a tight embrace.   
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Quentin asked. Eliot pulled back to look at him.   
“Q…” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I have to go away for a bit.” It took a second for Quentin to process what was being said, but when he did he felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him.   
“El?” He said, unable to say anything more.   
“It’s important. It’s really important and I can’t tell you about it, and…” he took a deep breath, “I don’t know if I’m coming back.” Quentin felt sick and slightly numb. Eliot had come to mean so much to him and now he was leaving. He pulled himself together enough to speak, trying to make light of the situation in some way, not ready to deal with how much he was hurting.   
“This is the most elaborate way I’ve ever been dumped.” He said. Eliot gripped his shoulders.   
“That’s not what this is. I’m not dumping you, Q, I just… there isn’t another option. I looked into it and this is the only chance.”   
“You aren’t making any sense,” Quentin said, trying to stop his voice from shaking, “please just talk to me about this.”   
“I can’t. I’ll try to make it back, I promise.” Eliot said, and then he was walking out the door and Quentin was too shocked to go after him. 

***

Quentin moped around his room for the next couple of days. He texted Eliot, trying not to sound desperate, asking for an explanation, but his texts didn’t go through. He called in sick to work and lay in his room in the dark, letting his heartbreak and his depression mingle together, each feeding into the other. He watched Julia and James be domestic for the first time in ages, seeing Julia cook meals for James, which only made him miss Eliot more. Julia pressed him with questions about Eliot which he mostly shrugged off. Her strange fascination for him was becoming annoying as she kept bringing up the one person he was trying to get over. He wondered if Eliot would’ve stayed if Quentin had admitted to being in love with him. He also worried about Eliot. He thought about how Eliot had been behaving in the run up to him leaving, analysed every word that he had said when they last spoke. He thought about how frightened Eliot had seemed. He worried that something bad had happened to him, that he had left because he was forced to. But he also believed that those thoughts were only him trying to deny the fact of their breakup. 

A few days after Eliot left, Quentin decided he had to drag himself back to work. He couldn’t let his life stop because of a breakup. It hurt, and he had wallowed in it for a while, but now he had to make steps to rejoin the world. He was just about to leave the apartment when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, expecting Julia or James, but instead seeing something that terrified him to the core. A man in a suit, stood in the middle of the apartment. That was strange enough, seeing as no one had let him in, but the thing that was really frightening was the cloud of moths that fluttered around his face, completely obscuring it, as if the man could somehow control them.   
“Quentin Coldwater.” The man said, and Quentin panicked. There was something familiar about him, something out of the depths of his nightmares, only ever half-remembered. He came to the conclusion that he was dreaming. Which was unsettling as he rarely came to that conclusion in dreams.   
“What…?” He started, but was unable to say anymore.   
“You’ve been amputated,” the terrifying nightmare man said, “they’ve left you without your memories, without your training, without your friends to protect you. They’ve gone and made this boring for me.”   
“I don’t….” Again Quentin tried to speak, and again he trailed off. What could he possibly say?   
“I’ve torn you limb from limb over and over again. It’s only really exciting if you can fight back.” And then the man laughed and Quentin thought he might cry.   
“I have a much better plan for you. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Let’s go and see your friends.” He stepped forward and grabbed Quentin, who immediately passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin starts to remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one has taken so long, I've had a lot of work to do. Hope you like it.

Quentin woke up, still shaking from his nightmare. Feeling sick and haunted from it. He looked around for Eliot, which had become instinct when he woke up, a heartbreaking habit now that Eliot had left him. But now, not only was Eliot absent, he didn’t see anything familiar. He wasn’t in his bed, instead he was lying on the floor of what appeared to be a dungeon, dingy light pouring in from a barred window set high in one wall. It began to dawn on him that his nightmare wasn’t a nightmare at all, which meant that the strange man with the moths around his face was in fact real. Quentin felt his hands go numb and his chest constrict with panic. His breathing came in short bursts with whimpering sobs. He was having a panic attack, in a dungeon. He couldn’t see any of his usual coping strategies helping him out, not when he was in a fucking dungeon, so he kept panicking until he had run out of energy, his hyperventilated breathing settling down to the occasional sob. He still felt sick to his stomach, but he had receded into a numbness that was trying to protect him. What else could he do? He couldn’t see any way out. 

He waited. He shouted for help intermittently, but no one ever came to help him. He realised after he first shouted for help, that there were two other people in the dungeon with him. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear them call for help and he could hear them scream. The only person that came into the cell was the man with the moths around his face. He would talk pleasantly to Quentin, say things that made no sense, talk about how he had killed Quentin before. He would make small talk for a while, not that Quentin would answer, or was expected to, but then he would start hurting Quentin, torturing him. The man with the moths around his face would laugh as he tore Quentin into pieces and then put him back together again. It was a game that he seemed to enjoy playing. From what Quentin could gather, the moth-man did the same thing to the other man in the dungeon. But the woman was tortured and pressed for information, there was a purpose there other than just causing pain. When the moth-man had hurt Quentin as much as Quentin thought his body could possibly take, he would use his strange hands to heal Quentin, completely impossibly. The thing the moth-man didn’t seem to realise, was that every time he healed Quentin, some of his memories came back. The first time, it had been a complete shock. Quentin was gasping for breath, feeling his bones knit themselves back together when a memory popped into his head. He was sat in a classroom that he didn’t recognise, taking a strange test. He figured he might be going mad, but then more and more memories came back to him. Memories of magic. He remembered his captor, the Beast, attacking the school, pulling someone’s eyes out. He remembered casting spells. He knew that there was a lot more that he had forgotten, but he worked on remembering the spells, they were what would be most useful to him. So he waited. He waited for the Beast to torture him, he waited to be healed, he waited for more and more of his memories to flood back to him. 

***

Quentin had lost all notion of time in the dungeon. He didn’t know if he’d been in there for day, weeks or months when the Beast decided to move him out of the dungeon to a strange patch of land outside a building that looked a lot like an outhouse. Quentin assumed it had a reason for doing this, but it could just be bored of torturing him.  
“Come out.” The Beast called. “I have Quentin, deliver Penny to me and you can have him back.” His voice reverberated with magic and Quentin knew that it had been magically amplified. Penny was someone Quentin knew before his memories had been taken. He had seen him in the flashes that had come back, but he had didn’t know how well they knew each other. He had neglected the memories of people in favour of the ones about magic, letting them come into his head but not really giving them any thought. From his position on the floor at the Beast’s feet, Quentin saw people emerge from the outhouse. He vaguely recognised them from his half-returned, jumbled memories, more than just Penny, these people had all been a part of his life before, but again he didn’t know how much of a part they had. He saw Eliot standing among them, the one person that he truly recognised. Eliot called his name and all hell broke loose. 

Everyone was a lot more powerful than he remembered them being. They were a lot more powerful than he had been when he was learning magic. There were no memories in his head to explain that. He fired a spell at the Beast, a battle spell, a spell he once threw at Penny before he was expelled. It was the only battle magic he knew, he remembered, he had nothing else to help defeat the Beast. He tried to dodge out of the way as the Beast threw a spell at him, but he didn’t move quickly enough. The spell ripped through his shoulder and he collapsed, eyes on the Beast as Eliot distracted it. The Beast turned to fire a spell at Eliot and as he did, Alice drove a knife through his chest from behind. The last thing Quentin saw before he blacked out was Eliot rushing towards him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin remembers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that it took so long between chapters, I had essays and started a new job. Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Quentin Coldwater was sick of waking up in unfamiliar places. He wanted to be back in his own bed. Instead, he was lying on a table in a field cordoned off by sheets. As he began to wake up properly, his head flooded with memories from his time at Brakebills, the memories that had been taken from him. He reeled, not only at the amount of information coming back into his head, but also at the sudden realisation of Eliot’s place in those memories. He had time to process the new memories as he lay in bed, healing. He learned from the centaurs, (centaurs!) that was in Fillory. Despite everything that had happened to him, despite his dealings with the Beast, and the flood of memories to process, he was overwhelmed by the joy of being in Fillory.

Once he was more settled, once he was more himself and had began to straighten things out in his head, the nurse handed him a letter that Eliot had left him. It read:  
Dear Q,  
I don’t know how much you remember, but I saw you cast that spell so I assume you remember something at least. Margo, Alice and I are at Castle Whitespire. I’m the High King of Fillory which officially makes me a catch.   
If you wake up, there’s a carriage that will take you to Whitespire so you can join us. Please wake up.   
Love Eliot.   
Quentin read the letter several times, trying to figure out how it made him feel. The nurse told him that Margo, Alice and Eliot stayed for as long as they could before duty took them to Whitespire. 

He spent the next few days of physical therapy feeling betrayed. His shoulder had been replaced with a wooden one, covered in something that resembled skin that had been painted on. He learnt to move it as if it were his own shoulder. As he practised his stretches he thought about Eliot. He thought about Eliot from two conflicting perspectives. He thought about the friend that he had made at Brakebills, and about the stranger that he had met a the coffee shop. He remembered how he felt, he remembered that version of himself, that idea he had of Eliot. But it wasn’t real, it was a fiction crafted around a promise made to cheer him up. The magicless version of Quentin was in love with Eliot, and the real Quentin wasn’t. But he could still remember their relationship, could still remember Eliot holding him, kissing him, caring about him. He knew that when his physical therapy was done he would have to go to Whitespire to face his friends, but how could he do that when he didn’t know how he felt? His life had been so much simpler in the days before he was expelled, before he accidentally summoned the Beast when all he worried about was trying to learn magic and trying to fit in. His life had also been so much simpler after he was expelled when he knew nothing about magic; he had been happy in a new relationship, he had even stopped worrying about there being something more out there for him. And now, he had those two identities working against each other in his brain. Part of him was furious with Eliot for essentially tricking him into a relationship, but a larger part just wanted him more than he had wanted anyone before. 

***

Once he was healed, or at least more in control of his new shoulder, Quentin headed to Whitespire. Despite everything that had happened, and everything that Quentin was still puzzling over, travelling through Fillory was one of the best experiences of his life. The world that he had clung to so desperately as a child, but also as an adult, was real, and he got to be in it. He watched through the carriage window as they passed fields and forests, looking out for any landmarks mentioned in the books. Whitespire itself was better than Quentin had ever imagined, and he had imagined it a lot. In his head, of course, he was the one who had become high king, but really Eliot was far more suited to the title than he was. The castle guards were clearly expecting him and they escorted him into the throne room where Eliot, Margo and Alice were sat in the middle of a discussion about farming with the council. They all looked a little drained, but regal, dressed in Fillorian clothes, crowns atop of their heads. Alice looked a tad awkward, but Eliot and Margo looked as if they had been born royalty.   
“Quentin!” Alice said when the guards brought him in. She went towards him, as if to hug him, but then stopped.   
“Thank God you’re alive.” She said. Back at Brakebills Quentin had fancied her so much, but those feelings were gone now. He glanced over at Eliot and felt his stomach flip.   
“Quentin, thank fuck!” Margo said. They hadn’t been all that close at Brakebills, sort of at the beginning of becoming friends, but they had been friendly after he was expelled. Quentin tried to align the two versions of her that he met. He still couldn’t figure out how he felt about Eliot.   
“Q,” Eliot said, “hi.”   
“Hi.” Quentin said. He didn’t know what to say. He had hoped that he would have everything figured out by the time he got to the castle, and when that hadn’t happened he had hoped that seeing Eliot in person would help, but instead he was tongue-tied.   
“Penny fucked off back to Earth. We have an empty throne if you’re interested.” Eliot said. It wasn’t at all how Quentin thought their reunion would go, but the prospect of being an actual king of Fillory distracted him from all of that for long enough to be excited.   
“Can I? Do I get to be a King?” Quentin asked. 

They didn’t pause to have a heart to heart and address Quentin’s two conflicting realities. Instead, all four of them headed to the rainbow bridge so that they could crown Quentin. It was one of the most beautiful places that Quentin had ever seen, and he stopped halfway across the bridge just to look around in wonder. The other three had been there before when they were crowned, but they were still impressed by the beauty of the place. Really Quentin probably could’ve been crowned in Whitespire, seeing as how that was were Penny had the left the crown, but he was grateful that the others allowed him some ceremony. You only get crowned once after all. 

Once they had crossed the bridge and were all stood together in the place where they had been crowned, Eliot ordered Quentin to kneel.   
“Q,” he said, “you have loved Fillory all of your life and it was unjust that you were unable to be a part of us discovering that it was real, but you’re here now and Fillory has been waiting for you to be a king. I crown you, King Quentin the Compassionate.” He placed the crown onto Quentin’s head, it was heavier than Quentin was expecting, but not uncomfortable. He wished he could tell his younger self about this moment, something he had dreamed about for so long thinking it could only ever be fiction. He held Eliot’s hands as he got to his feet, and as they stood there, face to face, Quentin had to fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin makes a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one, thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoy it.

On the carriage ride back to the castle, the others began to fill Quentin in on what he had missed after being expelled. They told him about how Penny had heard the Beast in his head and Penny seeing the dungeon with Victoria in it. They informed him that as soon as the Beast was dead Penny had rescued Victoria and then gone back to Earth. They told him about Margo’s love for gossip leading her to the discovery that what Penny was seeing was Fillory. They told him about Christopher Plover and Martin Chatwin, and they told him about the probability spell.   
“Once we’d decided that we had to go to Fillory, we headed to the Plover estate where we saw the ghost loop and got the button. That was when I came to say goodbye.” Eliot said and Quentin blushed at the reminder of their relationship. He didn’t mention how heartbroken he had been, but he did tell them about the dungeon and about slowly getting his memory back. Part way through their conversation they had arrived at the castle, but they kept talking as they headed back to the throne room, and they were still catching each other up hours later. 

Alice showed Quentin to his room in the castle. She had changed a lot since he had known her, grown into her power a little, but she was still shy and nervous around him. She apologised repeatedly for dragging him into her search for Charlie and he realised that all this time she had blamed herself for getting him expelled. He hadn’t been blaming anyone until recently, due to his memory loss, but when it had come back to him he had only been angry at Penny. And he wasn’t anywhere near as angry as he had been before the memory wipe. His time out of Brakebills had been peaceful and happy, he hadn’t reverted to being a depressed super nerd as he thought he would. It was hard to be truly cross about something that had led to such a beautiful chapter of his life. This, of course, brought him back to thinking about Eliot. He sat alone in his new room and wondered if Eliot had loved him. Eliot had only really sought him out post-expulsion due to the promise he made, but he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long if he didn’t feel anything. Magicless Quentin had never gotten around to saying the words to him, so he had never found out how much Eliot really felt for him. Some of it had to be real, though. 

Quentin spent the next couple of days adjusting to life in the castle, to life as a king. Whenever he looked at Eliot he remembered the way they had been. He remembered them sleeping together, making out, holding hands, eating dinner, watching films together. He remembered the comfort and mundanity in their relationship as well as the passion and lust. Looking at Eliot, Quentin realised that he was still heartbroken. There was a part of him that hadn’t moved past the moment in his apartment when Eliot had walked out the door. That part of him was still waiting for Eliot to come back, to ask Quentin to take him back. He realised that no matter how hard he tried to separate those two versions of himself, he really was just one Quentin. One Quentin who had fallen in love. That didn’t end just because he had more information now. And Eliot had to feel it too, or at least feel something towards Quentin. The way they had been, that was more than just keeping a quirky promise to a friend, that had been real. Quentin knew that his only options were to talk to Eliot or to keep pining miserably, and really he owed himself a chance at happiness. 

***

He found Eliot draped over his throne, talking policy with Margo and a group of advisors. Quentin had no desire to have such a personal conversation in front of so many people, so he sat down and tried to be interested in solving Fillory’s problems. In a way this had always been his dream job, being a king of Fillory, but the reality of it was a little dull. His mind wandered and he paid very little attention. Wherever Alice was, she had the right idea skipping policy meetings. Margo and Eliot really had it covered without him, Quentin was still catching up, getting used to being a king. Besides, who could think clearly about policy when they were about to tell the person they loved how they felt? Certainly not Quentin. 

Quentin waited until they were done with policy for the day so that he could pull Eliot aside.   
“Can I talk to you?” He asked, and Eliot glanced at Margo, saw that she was busy flirting with one of the guards and then nodded.   
“Sure.” He said and pulled Quentin into an empty room. Quentin took a deep breath, his hands trembling from nerves.   
“Eliot, I…” he started, “this is all very weird, living for all of that time without my memories… and you, being…” Eliot was gazing down at him intensely, but Quentin couldn’t read his expression.   
“I just… was it real, El?”   
“What do you mean?” Eliot asked, his voice gentle and barely a whisper.   
“Us. Were we real?” Eliot stepped towards him and brought a hand up to lightly touch Quentin’s face.   
“I hope so,” he said, “it was real to me.” Quentin felt the relief flood through him, followed by excitement and joy. He reached up, pressing a kiss to Eliot’s lips.   
“It was real to me too.” he said when he pulled back and Eliot smiled, wrapped an arm around Quentin’s waist, held the back of Quentin’s neck with his other hand and brought their bodies together, their kiss soft but urgent. The familiarity and intimacy that they had shared before coming back to them instantly. For the first time since getting his memories back, Quentin felt truly complete.


End file.
